


what doesn't kill you, makes you wish you were dead

by Greet



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Death, Heavy Angst, Hong Jisoo | Joshua-centric, Hurt Jisoo, Hurt Joshua, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Walking Dead, M/M, Mentioned Jeon Jungkook, Minor Character Death, Nursing Student Joshua, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Prison, Sick Character, Sickfic, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greet/pseuds/Greet
Summary: These people were too far gone, eyes glazed over and unfocused if they had eyes at all. Some of the Corpses’ jaws were missing, torn or bitten off, as well as major chunks of flesh from their skin. Joshua wouldn’t have needed to study medicine to know that it was nearly impossible for the healthiest of people to come back from such injuries. If they were to return, it would be a horrific existence plagued with the knowledge of what once was- physically embedded into their mutilated bodies.Was there really no hope?





	what doesn't kill you, makes you wish you were dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mainvocalrocky (infinityxu)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinityxu/gifts).



 

_ what doesn’t kill you _

_ makes you wish you were dead _

  
  


Sunrise was always beautiful at the prison. From where he was perched in the east guard tower, he could see the way the sun perched just above the horizon, golden rays shining through the vicious rings of barbed wire and endless layers of chain link fences. He wasn’t sure he could find sunrises beautiful anymore, if the world crashing and burning around them would ruin anything that he had deemed beautiful before. With hope creeping in his chest, he found that it hadn’t; he was still entranced by the beauty of colors across the sky, painting it magnificent hues of gold and purple, the night fading behind him as the sun claimed the day. Despite the fear that each day brought, he could still find comfort in the little beauties hidden in the world- sunrises and sunsets, the rare sound of laughter, and the smell of wildflowers taking over the overgrown lawn. They were little, sure, but it was all that was left now. 

 

_ It was night-time. His room was dark, the night calm, but a deafening sound disrupted the calm surface. People were yelling and running in the halls, others knocking on his door and telling him to evacuate. Sleep overtook his mind, and he moved to climb from his bed, exhaustion thickening his bones. The screeching noise was that of the fire-alarm, he recognized it from the fire-drills each semester. He vaguely processed his alarm. It was finals season, they couldn’t be doing a drill now. Had someone burnt their popcorn?  _

 

_ He opened his door, light from the hallway flooding into his room. A few faces he recognized rushed past him, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks swollen with tear-tracks. He sniffed the air. There was no smoke, no stench of burnt food or cigarettes. Half awake, he darted back into his room and grabbed his phone and keys, rushing back out into the hall and allowing his door to close behind him.  _

 

_ Joshua had never seen such chaos in his hall. Even for the regular occasion in which the alarm went off from burnt popcorn or cup noodles, people would stagger out of the halls with as much energy as a sloth. But this was different. Girls huddled together and shoved past him; he heard distant sobbing as he turned into the staircase. Someone was screaming not too far off, the shrill sound echoing through the cement stairway. He felt much more awake now. The crowd of people rushing to get down the stairs nearly knocked him over and sent him flying down the staircase. He managed to catch himself on the shoulders of a stranger, whipping around the corner. The room adviser was standing at the doorway at the bottom, holding the door open and yelling at students to rush out of the building.  _

 

_ “What’s going on?” he demanded, yelling over the crowd, but the adviser simply ignored him, the crowd behind him ushering him out of the doorway and into the lobby. For some reason, the door was shut and the students piled against the it, slapping their palms at the glass. Their cries were incoherent and deafening over the sirens.  _

 

_ He was surrounded on all sides, people pushing him inward until he felt like he’d burst if he did as much as take a breath. Girls were crying and people were on the phone with their parents, but Joshua still couldn’t quite comprehend what in the world was going on.  _

 

_ A thump sounded against the door, and everyone froze. There were several people on the other side of the locked door, their hands grasping at the frame, but… something was wrong. Through the distortions of the glass, Joshua could see their faces. Their skin was bloody. More and more appeared, before Joshua could no longer see the porch through the glass. There was nothing but bloody, angry faces staring at him.  _

 

Joshua spent most of his nights in the east guard tower. As much as Jeonghan insisted that he stayed in the cell block with the others, he could never sleep. The cell block was far too cold and isolated; he didn’t want to sleep in a cage, grimy cement walls trapping him from all sides. He already felt far too trapped with the end of the world creeping all around him,; he wanted to find solace in the free, open air, ignoring the smell of dead flesh. Even though they had cleaned the cell block of the corpses that had rotted there, the stench lingered, clinging to the walls and the air. He didn’t know how the others could stomach it. 

 

On the west end, across the entire expanse of the prison yard, were the Corpses. Skin rotting, hair falling out in chunks, and eyes glazed over to a hideous pale yellow, they congregated against the fence of the east side where they kept their livestock. No matter how many times a week a team would go out and off each Corpse through the chain-link fence, more would appear the next day. The sun was still rising, barely cresting the horizon to face the day, so Joshua assumed these Corpses wandered over sometime in the night, drawn by the distant noise of their chickens. 

 

Groggily, Joshua stood and rubbed at his eyes, focus drawn away from the sunset and toward the bodies huddled against the fence, fingers grabbing at the wire and trying to get to the living flesh lingering a few feet from their grasp. His hand floated to the buck-knife holstered in his belt, starting down the dark stairwell. 

 

The sun was just sitting above the horizon as Joshua walked across the yard. The smell of rotting flesh blew in his face as the wind picked up, causing his nostrils and eyes to burn. The stench of the Corpses remained seared into the grass of the center prison-yard. The prison was overrun when they found it, clusters of the undead lingering in front of the cell-blocks, fences, and guard towers. Joshua and the younger members of the group were adamant about finding another place. They all knew it would take all of their manpower and limited resources. Their ammo was running low- but then again, when was it  _ not  _  running low? They were exhausted from spending restless months on the road, sleeping in cramped cars and garages. It was a horrible few months for all of them, and Joshua wasn’t sure if he had the energy to pour into the massive fight that it would take to take the prison. But Seungcheol insisted. He was perhaps the most exhausted of them all, having taken every watch possible so the others could sleep, stressing day and night trying to find a safe place for the group to bunker. Despite this, he was more eager to take the person than anyone, but Joshua understood it. Their leader was driven mad with desperation to find the group a safe home, where they could spend more than a week relaxing and recuperating from the long winter that had past. After all, they never stayed for one spot longer than a week, the record being six days.  _ “Just one more push,”  _ He had said, eyes brimming with tears. Joshua realized with a start that he had never seen the elder cry before.  _ “One more fight, and we’ll be done. The walls are strong, there are still fences up. We can claim this as our own.” _

 

So, they did claim it. But at a cost. 

 

The group was slightly larger then. They had one other, a kid named Jungkook. He was probably around Chan’s age, maybe a year or so older, with the largest doe eyes Joshua had ever seen. It was a sharp contrast against his strong build, but they all knew the kid was soft inside and out. They had found him in one of the houses they scouted early on after the fall. It had just been Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua then. He was huddled in a pantry, crying under his breath. It was only after a whole night of trying to get him to open up did they learn that his entire group had been overtaken in a herd. Six others. His older brothers. His heart broke as he watched Jungkook hold the tears back as he recounted the names of his each of his hyungs. And so, Joshua connected with him quickly, giving him a share of his food when rations were scarce, or taking an extra watch shift so he could get some extra sleep. He knew the three of them couldn’t replace the six brothers he once lost, but it was a start. 

 

Jungkook died in the siege of the prison. The yard was easy to take over, the walkers spread out enough that the group could make a sizable dent before they could be overwhelmed. It was  _ inside  _ the cell-block where they faced the real danger. All their ammo was depleted, bodies ready to drop. Seungcheol hadn’t predicted this. None of them had. The horrors that faced them in the dark, winding corridors between cell-blocks was unparalleled to anything Joshua had experienced. It was dark on all sides, the moaning of the dead echoing through the cement hallways in such a way that no one knew what direction they were coming from. Quickly, they were overwhelmed and separated. Joshua hid in a boiler room with Seokmin, the two holding their breath was Corpses banged on the door, prying at the jammed handle. Seungcheol, Chan, and Jeonghan had found their way out of the cell-block together, clearing out the one they currently lived in. 

 

It wasn’t until the chaos settled and the cleared out the nearest cell-block and the neighboring courtyard did Joshua notice something was missing.  _ “Where’s Jungkook?” _ He scoured the corridors, Jeonghan at his back with a flashlight and his pistol. They found him propped against a wall, Corpses gnawing on his thighs and shoulders. Jeonghan put a knife between their eyes, a sob ripping through his throat as he dragged the bodies away from him. Away from Jungkook. He wouldn’t have recognized the body if it hadn’t been for his bright yellow converse. He had worn them since the day they had met, and even though they were covered in a sheen of grime and filth, they never lost their vibrancy. His face was mostly gone, cheek bone protruding out of torn flesh and muscle, his neck missing large chunks, the rest of him coated in blood. Joshua felt as if a hole had been punched through his chest. How could they not have realized that he was missing? 

 

They buried him by the east guard tower, a small pile of stones marking the grave. Joshua watched it as he walked across the yard. Grass had grown back over the disturbed dirt, as well as a few dandelions sprouted around it. Most people saw dandelions as weeds, as nuisances in their precious lawns. But Joshua saw the beauty in them: fleeting wishes, courage, beauty hidden in disaster. Maybe that’s what Jungkook was. Something beautifully pure in an awful time and place. 

 

Ignoring the gnawing feeling in his chest, Joshua dropped his gaze and walked across the grass towards the other side. The cluster of Corpses came into clarity the closer he came. 

 

He looked each Corpse in the eye. Sometimes he wondered if there was anything left, if any remnants of their personality were trapped inside, banging on the inside of their skull beginning to be set free, doomed to a lifetime of mental slavery as their ravenous bodies overtook everything else. Joshua wasn’t sure he could fathom such an existence, forced to take a backseat to his own existence, becoming a secondary character in his own motion picture. He also wasn’t certain if it was cruel or hopeful to wish that parts of these people lived on after death. It would be easier to know that these people were gone- their brains only revived to feed on the living, that nothing else existed beyond that hunger. Afterall, Joshua would rather be dead than trapped in his own body. 

 

That couldn’t deter, however, the small flame of melancholy hope that festered in his chest. Perhaps there was a cure, a way that these people could be restored, returned to their normal lives. Each of these Corpses-- people-- had lives once. He looked to the Corpse on the far left: a man with a burly red beard and a bald head. He wore a worn leather jacket, jeans, and boots, but what Joshua noticed was his watch. It was expensive, he could tell, but the glass was shattered, the time frozen at a certain moment that he was sure was monumental to this one individual. Another Corpse was a woman, her long her falling out in chunks, her skin so decayed that it was obvious she had been turned at the beginning. But her left ring finger was adorned with a ring with diamond so large and bright that it nearly blinded him. Someone loved her-- someone loved her enough to buy such an expensive ring to mark her as theirs. She was a human once, a human with love and maybe a family to come home to. Now that was all gone. Reality doused that flame of hope in ice-cold water before it could even spark embers. These people were too far gone, eyes glazed over and unfocused if they had eyes at all. Some of the Corpses’ jaws were missing, torn or bitten off, as well as major chunks of flesh from their skin. Joshua wouldn’t have needed to study medicine to know that it was nearly impossible for the healthiest of people to come back from such injuries. If they were to return, it would be a horrific existence plagued with the knowledge of what once was- physically embedded into their mutilated bodies. 

 

_ Was there really no hope?  _ He wondered this as he raised his buck-knife, staring at the woman with the bright diamond ring. She snarled, grasping at the chain-link as food came closer than she probably had seen in months. Her teeth, rotten and nearly green, snapped at the metal. The groans from the small group huddled against the fence intensified, and the fence chimed under the force of their desperate arms flailing against it. If he didn’t disperse the crowd quickly, the noise would surely draw more, and perhaps there would be too many for them to handle. Without much else hesitation, Joshua drove his knife through the gaps in the fencing, stabbing the woman right between the eyes. He could feel the weak bones of her skull give way beneath his knife. He never quite got used to it- how flesh and bone felt under his touch- but he supposed that was just his reality now. Numbly, he stabbed each Corpse between the eyes, allowing them to fall to the ground and pile up just on the other side of the fence until none remained. 

He stared at the mound for a moment. A pyre. A mass grave. It saddened him that, in this world now, no one truly got a proper burial. At least, not those who didn’t still have those they loved close to them. Joshua knew that if he died tomorrow, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and the others would give him a proper burial and mark the grave with a rock formation. As they had done for the others. But these Corpses, no one cared. At least, not anymore. It was a hypocritical thought, he knew, because it was policy to burn any Corpses just outside of the prison walls to prevent the smell and piling up of bodies. Afterall, they were trying to make this area into home, no matter the price. Though it saddened him, Joshua couldn’t argue with the procedures. As much as he would like to hope and pray, the people behind those empty eyes were simply  _ gone,  _ and nothing he could do would revive them. This disease stripped people of who they once were and replaced them with dangerous monsters. Monsters that took away the people he loved, and threaten to do so every second. Thus, the policy was set into stone: zero tolerance for Corpses. 

 

“Joshua,” a voice called from a distance behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Wonwoo approached him from behind, his footsteps heavy in the grass. He was the tender to the garden and animals. They didn’t have much, a few chickens and a few horses, as well as a small vegetable garden: mostly carrots and cucumbers. It wasn’t much, but it kept them alive and fed. More so than if they had stayed in the city, relying on scavenging alone. Joshua was grateful for a man like Wonwoo, with his expertise on gardening and animal-care, he became an asset to the group. It also helped that he was friendly, yet quiet. He didn’t speak when it wasn’t necessary, but did when it was, and he always managed to make him feel better. When they first met him, he wasn’t sure how the latter would fit into the group chemistry, it had been just him, Jeonghan, and Chan at the time. But he held his own, came armed and prepared to stick with them through the long-haul. Joshua was grateful that he stuck around.

 

Joshua turned, a tired smile on his lips to greet Wonwoo as he reached him, his eyes glancing over the carrot bed and the chicken coop before finally focusing on Joshua. Before he even said anything, he knew he was in trouble. “Morning, Wonwoo,” he said. “Corpses must’ve clustered on this side of the fence last night. We really need to do something about this before the-”

 

“Jeonghan’s looking for you,” the taller interjected, tilting his head at Joshua. He held a rake in his hands, sticking it into the grass and resting his hands and chin on the end of the handle. He looked just as nervous as Joshua felt on the inside. They both knew that an angry Jeonghan was a dangerous, destructive entity. Perhaps one that he feared more than the walking dead. “I’m guessing he’s mad you slept outside again. I heard him talking to Seungcheol about it.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Of course he’d involve Cheol,” he sighed, shaking his head and sheathing his buck-knife back into his belt. Wonwoo was giving him a sympathetic look. “He’s worrying too much. The fences are perfectly safe, and I feel better being up there anyway.”   
  
“You know how he gets,” Wonwoo said with a shrug, leaning back and passing the rake from one hand to another. “I figured I’d let you know before he comes out here and drags you in by your ear.” There was a moment of silence between them, and the latter’s attention diverted to the pile of bodies on the other side of the fence. “Thanks for taking care of them. I know how… I know you don’t like doing this.”

 

Wonwoo was the only one with Joshua when he took down his first Corpse. Since Jeonghan had saved him from the University, he hadn’t had the need to. They were always on the run, zig-zagging and avoiding the awakened dead as much as humanly possible. In the rare instance they would run into trouble, Jeonghan was always the one to take them down. Afterall, he had the pistol. But when Wonwoo and Joshua had to make a run to a local pharmacy in desperate search for antibiotics for a sick Jeonghan, Joshua faced a decision.

 

_ Wonwoo was cornered, two Corpses pinning him down as he struggled to keep them off with both arms. His screamed rung in Joshua’s ears, the same ringing, deafening sound he remembered hearing in his dorm halls when everything went to shit. Panic surged in his chest, and everything moved slow. Too slow. His heart leapt into his throat, and he could feel blood feeling his ears and mouth. He had to act. Now. There were more Corpses coming behind, the barricaded door wouldn’t hold for long, and Wonwoo would die. He’d let a man die. He was going to be eaten alive, torn to bits and skin ripped off in chunks-  _

 

_ “Josh!”  _

 

_ He leapt forward, knife drawn and before he could even blink, the blade was through the Corpse’s skull. Feeling nauseous, he struggled to pull out the blade as Wonwoo kicked off the other and stabbed it through the neck. He couldn’t register any other sound once his knife met the skull of the Corpse; his ears rung and blood rushed in his head. He could hear nothing but the sound of his heart throbbing and pounding in his head. It was beating fast. Too fast. More of them were coming. Blood was on his hands. Brain matter on his sleeves and cheek. Too fast. Too much blood.  _

 

_ “Joshua.” Wonwoo grabbed his arm, helping him pull out the knife out of the skull. Blood gushed over his fingers as soon as the blade came loose, and it clattered onto the ground. There were hands on him, but he couldn’t register them. Murder. It was the word burning into his mind, his soul. Was it murder? They were dead, the bodies limp on the ground. But they were dead before. Jeonghan said they were dead. Joshua killed a man. He killed him. Blood was on his hands, and it felt like lava against his skin. He scrubbed at it, his throat closing up. Get it off. Off. He had to get it off. _

 

_ “You’re okay,” Wonwoo assured, though his own voice seemed so uneasy that it barely penetrated Joshua’s stupor. “We’re safe.” Joshua looked up, finally aware of where he was. Wonwoo was wiping at his blood-stained hands with a piece of stray cloth, his eyes hidden by his overgrown bangs. They were in a different room than before; it was some kind of office, a computer on a desk tucked in a corner, a door behind Wonwoo’s head with a chair lodged beneath the handle. “We’re in the back office.” Joshua then realized the latter was whispering. “If we’re quiet, the others should go away. We have the antibiotics, and we can get back to Jeonghan before tomorrow. Hopefully. Uh, are you okay?” _

 

_ Heart still lodged in his throat, Joshua wasn’t sure he could respond. He shook his head, hands trembling in Wonwoo’s hold. He felt his face begin to burn, and his vision blurred. Wonwoo’s hands were on his cheeks, wiping away the blurriness. Tears. He was crying.  _

 

_ “They’re not people,” Wonwoo said, his voice harsh but quiet. “Joshua, they’re not. They’re dead.” It was the first time Joshua heard him speak with any kind of emotion other than fear. He couldn’t quite place it. But it had hushed fervor and conviction. Comfort?  _

 

_ Joshua could only nod in response, trying to force the image of the Corpse away from his brain each time he shut his eyes. That’s all it was: a Corpse. And if he hadn’t killed it, Wonwoo would have become one of them. He would’ve been torn apart and died a miserable death. He had to do it. He had to.  _

 

_ But that didn’t make it any less unbearable.  _

 

Joshua shook his head. “It’s no trouble. I was over here anyway,” he said. “We really do need to do something about fortifying this fence. Before something goes wrong and we end up losing people.” 

 

Wonwoo glanced over the fence, his expression solid and unreadable, as it usually was. “Seungcheol’s in charge. If you ask anyone, it’d be him,” he offered. “But talk to Jeonghan first. Pull off the band-aid.” Joshua laughed at that, tucking his hands into his back pockets. He swiveled on his heel, glancing down at the pyre on the other side of the fence for the last time. The woman was on the bottom of the pile, but her hand gripped the bottom of the fence, and he could still the ring clear as day. His stomach twinged painfully. 

 

With a nod, Joshua smiled once more at Wonwoo before starting across the lawn towards the main courtyard. He knew facing Jeonghan would be difficult. Each time, it never got any easier. He felt a connection to the man that he couldn’t quite explain, like the insurmountable bond between family. No one could get beneath his skin like the latter, and no one knew him quite as deeply. Besides perhaps Wonwoo. Not even Jeonghan had seen him in such a state. At least, not since his mother died. 

 

Though he knew facing the older would be difficult, he knew Jeonghan’s anger was out of love. He was worried, and Joshua understood that. He was sure he’d feel the same if their roles were reversed, but he simply couldn’t get Jeonghan to understand. The prison brought on panic attacks that he couldn’t quite explain. He had experienced them before, but not quite as intense, when he was in school. They got worse during finals, as they did with practically everyone, but the panic that the cell block arouse was much stronger than anything else he had yet to experience. It was a suffocating and blinding panic. One that breathing exercises and grounding techniques could overcome. Not one that a hug or coo from Jeonghan could soothe either. Instead of keeping everyone else in the cell block awake, he chose to escape to the guard towers, where he could finally breathe and find peace with the night air against his skin. No matter how much Joshua tried to explain this to Jeonghan, he was certain he could never fully comprehend his reasoning. He never came clean about the intense panic, the fear, that spending each night in the prison brought him. He couldn’t- after all Jeonghan and Seungcheol had done to make this place feel like home for everyone, the last thing Joshua wanted was to discredit their hard work by worrying them with his attacks. To him, it was an easy solution to sleep outside. A harmless compromise. 

 

He stepped into the cell block with fear lodged into his throat. The door thumped shut behind him. The cell block was dark, as it usually was despite the rising sunlight that cascaded through the small windows close to the ceiling. Darkness clung in the corners of the room, the cells black holes that seemed to such all life into them. Just looking at them made him uneasy. He couldn’t shake the faint nausea that clung to his throat and stomach; he figured it was the lingering scent of blood and rotten flesh, though he couldn’t quite smell it. Along with the darkness was a bitter cold that danced across his skin, sparking goosebumps along his arms and the back of his neck. With his thin t-shirt, the concrete room was an ice-box, and he shivered. Chan sat a few feet away from him, propped against the wall outside of his cell. He turned a thick piece of wood in his hands, knuckles white with his tight grip, focused intently on whittling it down with his knife, sharpening it to a point. As Joshua approached him, he lifted his eyes to meet Joshua’s, and he smiled weakly. “Morning, hyung,” he said. Joshua shook his head, kneeling beside him and ruffling his hair. “What did I say?” he teased. “You don’t have to call me hyung. I think we’re a bit past formalities, right?”

 

“But I like calling you hyung,” he said, shaking Joshua’s hand off of his head with a smirk. Joshua bit back a laugh and stood up. He was grateful that Chan was around, that they had found him. He was the youngest, and all of them cosseted him. Joshua wasn’t sure how old he was, exactly. The passage of time to all of them was now a blur of seasons, a mess of estimations. Joshua wasn’t sure when his own birthday had passed, it had been sometime in winter, when they were holed up in a car sputtering on it’s last gallon of gas. Chan’s had been a short time after, just before the snow thawed and winter was giving way to light spring warmth and new blooming. He was late teens, a mere seventeen when they first met. It had been at least one winter since then. Regardless, Chan’s presence gave them hope, that childhood could be somewhat preserved, even though it had been entirely tainted by the world’s demise. His innocence was something that they wanted to protect as long as they possibly could, and even though they all knew it was impossible to preserve all of it forever, they surely tried their best. Jeonghan, especially. “You know Jeonghan’s looking for you?” 

 

“I know,” Joshua said, heading down the hall towards the warden’s office at the end of the cell block where Jeonghan and Seungcheol usually spend most of their time, huddled over maps, trying to plan their next runs. “If I don’t make it back, you can have my knife. It’ll be much better for whittling.” 

 

Chan’s laughter was music to his ears, echoed off to the cement of the prison walls. “Don’t joke about that! Jeonghan won’t kill you. But I’ll take you up on the knife.” 

 

Joshua pushed open the gate blocking off the cell block from the main entrance. Just off to the right was the warden’s office, up a short staircase into a room with a broad window that overlooked the entrance. It was a small lobby, perhaps for visiting hours before the prison succumbed to the apocalypse. A small array of tables and benches took up the empty space; boxes and duffle bags sat on top of the tables, filled with food, weapons, and their scarce medical supplies. Seokmin sat at one of the tables, sorting through the duffle bag filled with their non-perishable food. He had two stacks of cans built on the right, a shorter stack of bagged food on the left. He looked up when Joshua entered the lobby, his eyes bright despite a smile being vacant from his lips. “Good morning,” he greeted, turning his gaze back down to the food, scribbling something down on his notepad. “We’re running low on cans,” he said. “And Wonwoo said we won’t be able to harvest for a while. I think Seungcheol is considering running into town.”   
  
“Well, we can’t survive off of canned vegetables and eggs forever,” he agreed. “Have you seen Jeonghan?” 

 

Wordlessly, Seokmin pointed to the warden’s office overlooking the room. He counted the cans on his right again, whispering the numbers under his breath. Joshua couldn’t help but think something was off with the latter. Even with their bleak situation. Seokmin usually lit up a room, a smile so bright and voice even brighter to illuminate the darkest corners in everyone’s mind. When they first met him, he was singing. His voice was weak and hushed, as to not draw attention, but the words he sang were bright. Hopeful. It drew them in further, further into the abandoned grocery store in which they were scavenging. Seokmin was holed up in the far back corner, a small fire burning out of cereal boxes. He sang to the fire, and when they decided to bring him along, he sang for them whenever the atmosphere was dripping with despair that it seemed not even the strongest sunlight could brighten it. At times, it annoyed Joshua. How could he be so chipper when everything they once loved and knew disappeared around them? But as time carried on, he understood. He wasn’t chipper, but he was casting a light on their new reality that none of them truly knew they needed until they met him. Seokmin was a glue that kept all of them together. 

 

Joshua started up the stairs towards the warden office. Through the shut door, he could hear Seungcheol and Jeonghan discussing as they did most mornings. With his uneasiness brewing in his gut, he knocked on the door. It swung open without hesitation, and Seungcheol was looking right at him. “There you are, Shua,” he said, stepping aside so he could walk in. The first thing Joshua noticed was that Jeonghan wasn’t looking at him. He hadn’t done as much as raised his eyes as he entered the room. He was hunched, loose strands from his ponytail handing in front of his face. Joshua watched as his hands fluttered across the map laid out across the metal table. He toyed with the mismatch chess and Monopoly pieces strewn across the map, marking locations that they’ve already raided or that they must avoid in the future, where they encountered herds or other hostile groups. 

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Seungcheol said as he slipped out of the door, closing it behind him. It would be obvious to anyone within a mile radius that the air was too thick with tension, with worry. Though Jeonghan was often quiet, he had the ability to completely alter the mood in the room. Like himself and the others did with Seungcheol, everyone in the group looked to Jeonghan for direction. Though Seungcheol was their leader, Jeonghan had a certain sense of composure to him that Joshua admired. He had it ever since they met- since Jeonghan saved his life.

 

Jeonghan stood from where he was hunched over the map, arms crossed across his chest, eyes heavy with thick dark circles that overtook his pale features. “You promised me, Joshua,” he began, shaking his head. The tone of his voice made Joshua’s stomach churn, his throat burning and his fingers trembling with nerves. The disappointment was as evident in his words as it was in his expression. Joshua wanted to curl in on himself and disappear. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice broken. “I just can’t-”   
  
“I know you have your issues with the cell-block, but it’s for everyone’s safety,” Jeonghan said. “God forbid the fences go down in the night. None of us would be able to help you before it was too late.” 

 

Joshua was going to retort that the fences were plenty stable, that there was no reason to worry about it, but he knew it would be a lie. The west fence where the Corpses liked to gather was getting weaker by the day, and if a larger herd moved through, the fences wouldn’t hold forever. The thought left an acidic taste in his mouth. “We need to reinforce the fences,” he admitted, unable to look Jeonghan in the eye. “But I just… Jeonghan, I can’t. Whenever I try to sleep in here, it’s suffocating. I don’t want to rot away in a cell. I can still  _ smell _ them, Jeonghan, I can-”

 

A hand on his shoulder quietened him. He lifted his eyes, finally looking the elder in the eye with a sheepish expression. The latter’s disappointment was vacant, his expressions now laced with exhaustion and worry. No matter how angry or upset the two were at each other, Joshua trusted that Jeonghan would always be at his side. The bond he felt with the other was a degree beyond powerful, and he trusted his entire life to be held in Jeonghan’s hands. He had saved him so many times in the past, and Joshua knew deep down that he owed everything to him. He wouldn’t be around if he hadn’t showed up. 

 

“It’s hard. I get it,” he said. “But maybe we could figure something out. I’ll stay up with you if I have to. You could sleep on the ledge or in this office. You don’t have to sleep in a cell as long as you’re in the block. That’s all I want.”

 

Joshua wanted to argue. But he knew Jeonghan was about as stubborn as they come, and to do so would to commit to an uphill battle he could never win. He could try. Though he was sure his body would betray him and plague him with visions of rotting bodies and gnawing teeth in the night, he would try to endure them. The group needed him, afterall, just as they needed everyone else. They were stronger as a group, watching one another’s backs. If anything were to happen, whether inside the cell-block or out in the courtyard, they had to be together. Being separated now was a death wish. And Joshua felt selfish for not realizing that before. Jeonghan must’ve seen his expression shift, because he moved his hand from his arm to the nape of his neck, petting the back of his head. “It’s all right, Joshuji,” he said. “I understand it’s an adjustment. Chan couldn’t sleep in his cell for the first two weeks we were here. But if you get through a couple of nights I think it could really work.”

 

“I’m willing to give it a try,” Joshua said. “But I was thinking… About the fences. The west fences by the garden are getting weaker. I took out another crowd this morning. It’s only a matter of time it gives way and we have a breach.”

 

Jeonghan slid his hand to his ear and gave it a soft tug, offering him a tired smile. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. We need to talk to Seungcheol about reinforcing the fence. We could use some of the climbing cables Seokmin found last month.” As he spoke, he moved a few of the chess pieces on the map, shifting a stray Monopoly piece- the racecar- a few kilometers south where the river sat. With a nod, Joshua wordlessly followed Jeonghan out of the warden’s office. He walked down the steps, attracting Seokmin’s attention, who remained at his post by the duffle bags. 

 

“Jeonghan,” he regarded, moving to stand. “We have enough to last us a week or so, not counting what Wonwoo has growing in the garden. If we wait much longer to make a run, we won’t have enough to sustain ourselves for the trip.”   
  
“Thanks, Seokmin,” he said, moving to glance over the list he wrote on the stray notepad. “Say, do you still have those climbing cables you find a few weeks ago?” Joshua stayed back a few feet, not particularly paying attention to the conversation, wringing his hands together and focusing on his toes. His shoes were once white, and he supposed they still were, but they had been through so much mud, dust, blood, and grime that the color was hardly pure. They were the sneakers he was wearing when everything fell apart, and even though they did nothing to keep him warm during the winter or protect his feet from blisters, he refused to take them off. Call it sentimental. 

 

“Joshua,” Jeonghan called. He quickly met his gaze. “Can you find Seungcheol for me?”

 

  * \- 



 

“Jeonghan, I want you to take Seokmin and watch our backs,” Seungcheol said as they all started across the yard towards the west end. Seungcheol took the lead of the group, Jeonghan walking beside him with Joshua, Seokmin, and Chan trailing closely behind. “Watch for any Corpses that sneak up on us and take them out. Quietly.” Jeonghan held a crowbar in his hand, and Seokmin wielded his blue-handled machete. They had a policy against guns, instilled by Seungcheol despite how uncomfortable it sometimes made the group. They liked the idea of being protected with guns, a crowbar was only so much when you face a herd, but now that they settled in the prison, there wasn’t much use for them. Regardless, Seungcheol insisted that they all keep their guns in one place. He didn’t trust that someone wouldn’t be trigger happy and accidentally draw an armageddon of Corpses to their location. 

 

Wonwoo was already by the fence, hunched over in the garden, his hands almost black with dirt as he raised them to wave at the rest of the group. “What are you doing?” he inquired as they approached. He rubbed his dirty hands on his jeans, eyeing the weapons everyone held wearily. It was a rare sight. The group hardly went around baring weapons. And Joshua knew Wonwoo was weary of them to begin with, much like Seungcheol. No matter how cold or collected he seemed, especially in the face of Corpses, he despised the violence of it all, much like Joshua. He respected, however, how calm he was when he dealt with it. He could even go as far as to have said he was envious of it. Joshua could never hide such an instinctual reaction so easily. 

 

“We have to reinforce the fence before it goes down and we lose our only reliable food source,” Jeonghan explained. “Seokmin found these climber cables a few weeks back. We think it might be strong enough to reinforce some of the base.” 

 

The latter regarded the group with a skeptical look. “You think that’ll work? Climbing cables?” Seungcheol stepped behind Seokmin, unzipping his backpack and pulling out cables, clamps, and loose spools of thick metal wire. “It’s our best bet,” the leader replied curtly, handing the wire off to Joshua. “The plan is to weave the cables and wiring through the chain-link and secure it to the surrounding fence. The other parts are more stable, and it should keep the fence upright for now.” 

 

“If we really want to secure it, we could go on the other side and anchor some of the cables on stakes,” Seokmin supplied. Everyone turned to him. “If the Corpses push on it, there’s tension going the other way, and it’ll be much less likely to give away.” 

 

With that, Seungcheol cut a whole in the chain-link with the plan to patch it back up with some thick wire once they were finished. He, Seokmin, and Jeonghan crawled through on the other side, Seokmin handing them the bag of cables. Joshua felt particularly useless, hands on the fence to support it with Chan as Seokmin and Seungcheol discussed where exactly they had to reinforce the fence. They move quickly, Jeonghan standing with their backs to all of them, watching the tree line carefully, scanning for any potential danger. At their feet were the corpses that Joshua had ended earlier that day. Jeonghan was standing between two of them, a burly looking man and the woman with the large diamond ring. Joshua found himself staring at the Corpses beneath his feet. Did a finger twitch?   
  


“Joshua, hold this.” He shook his head. Seungcheol held his hand out with a wire, gesturing for him to wrap it through the chain-link and secure it to the next panel of fencing. He did so, taking his eyes off of Jeonghan for a moment to properly loop the wire around the connecting pole, effectively securing it. His eyes immediately darted back to Jeonghan as Seungcheol turned to Seokmin to discuss rigging the fence with the tension system he suggested. The latter was looking down at his feet now, at the two corpses, and something caught his attention, though Joshua couldn’t quite see what it was. He knelt down, just a foot or so to investigate, and alarm bells sounded in his head. Wrong! Something was wrong. 

 

Before he could even inhale, vicious groans erupted through the quiet, followed by Jeonghan’s yelling. There were two petite yet rotting hands around his wrist, pulling him to the ground with massive force that Jeonghan could hardly fight back. One of the hands jolted up and grasped Jeonghan by his hair, ripping at the lock as the Corpse tried pulling him closer, jaws snapping in anticipation. Joshua was yelling and crying before he could think to do anything else, banging on the chain-link with his buck-knife. “ _ Jeonghan! _ ” 

 

Seungcheol got to him first, a cry of alarm on his lips as he stomped on the Corpse’s skull. Joshua tried not to hurl at the sound of bone shattering and flesh tearing, the gore splattered all over the leader’s combat boots, small bits of brain matter on the collar of his shirt. Joshua tore through the hole in the fence before he could hesitate, rushing over to Jeonghan and tripping over the Corpses beneath his feet. He grasped the elder’s wrists, examining the skin with wide and tearful eyes. What if he had been scratched?  _ Oh God, _ he was sure he couldn’t handle it if God threw this his way now. He had been too cruel, a deity Joshua himself once believe in and worshiped, but if He  _ was _ real, he almost took away the one thing that mattered more to Joshua than anything else on this barren planet, and that was not okay. “Are you scratched?” he whispered, fingers gliding over the skin to find it clean. Not scratched. Jeonghan was shaking his head, but he was also refusing to use his words. And Joshua knew as soon as their eyes met that this shook Jeonghan to his core. He never saw such fear on his face before. 

 

“Jeonghan- I…” This was his fault. The hands that had grabbed him- the Corpse- had been the woman with the big ring. But Joshua was certain he drove his blade through her skull. Could he have missed? Could the undead resurrect all over again? His mind was racing a million miles a minute until he registered that Wonwoo had his arms on Jeonghan, his expression unreadable yet tense. Seungcheol was telling him to leave. Joshua turned on his heels to follow- to make sure Jeonghan was okay- until the leader barked at him to stay, telling him they needed his help finishing the fence and getting rid of the bodies collected on the ground once they were done.

 

Joshua watched as Seungcheol and Wonwoo dragged the last of the bodies to the fire they built a few feet on the other side of the fence. His fingers curled around the chain-link fence, using the grip to support his weight as he leaned against the reinforced structure. His ears rung, head throbbing painfully as he watched the two drag the last body- the woman with long, thinning hair and a bright ring adorning her left ring finger- to the fire. The first thought that flickered in Joshua’s mind was that it wasn’t  _ fair.  _ The world as they knew it fell apart in pieces around them overnight, and with it went everyone’s dreams and aspirations.  Joshua looked forward to college ever since he could remember. From a young age, he knew he wanted to be a nurse, caring for and looking after people, helping them to  _ heal.  _ It was utterly disappointing to him that his dream was now gone. There were no hospitals, no doctor’s offices, no schools. He was able to provide the group medical service with what superficial training and schooling he had, but it wasn’t enough. If something serious were to happen, Joshua would be useless. He understood most things in theory, having spend most of his early college education with his nose shoved in textbooks, but he had no clue how to actually execute most things. All he wanted to do was help. Heal. But now, all he could do was destroy these creatures before they destroyed him. And that terrified him. 

 

What scared him even more, however, was how close his world came to falling apart all over again. When the Corpse lunged and grasped Jeonghan by the hair, Joshua felt as if everything he had known, loved, and understood crumbled around him on all sides. There were tears in his eyes before he could register anything else, his hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders, pulling him back while Seungcheol pried the Corpse away. His fingers still shook as he remembered the pure terror on Jeonghan’s features. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw such fear in his face. It disturbed him deeply. Each time he blinked, he saw the Corpse’s bulging eyes and clashing teeth, ripping Jeonghan’s hair in desperate need for taste. The closest person to him was almost bitten, and it was all Joshua’s fault. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened. He was sure he had driven his knife through each skull, straight down the middle and into the brain. There is no way that Corpse could have survived, but it did, and Jeonghan almost paid the ultimate price. 

 

He got up from where he sat, watching the fire burn. The two on the other side were conversing among themselves, so Joshua took the opportunity to slip away, walking across the lawn to meet the small, overgrown grave on the other side of the grass. The stones hadn’t moved. Joshua sat in front of the formation, picking a dandelion out of the ground and examining the white tufts in the darkness. He brushed his fingers over them, watching as some fell away with the breeze. From here he could still smell the intense stench of burning flesh. He covered his nose with his sleeve.

 

“It almost happened again. I almost lost him today,” he said under his breath, looking at the grave. “I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah. I tried looking after you. And now Jeonghan?” He fell silent. The broken part of him wanted Jungkook to respond- to somehow conjure himself before him and assure Joshua that his death was  _ not _ Joshua’s fault. It was a selfish thing to ask. After all, he hadn’t thought to wonder where exactly he was- to look for him- instead assuming he had made it out with someone else in the chaos. “I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah,” he spoke, hissing at the tears that burned in his eyes and betrayed him. “I wish you didn’t have to… go alone and scared. You deserved to die with your hyung… your hyungs… Someone should’ve held you and protected you, but we didn’t.” 

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, hunched in front of Jungkook’s grave, but it was long enough for the sun to entirely disappear, the land so dark he couldn’t even make out the stones of the grave in front of him. He could see the faint from a lantern approach him from behind. He didn’t turn to face them. He played with his shoelaces, looping and twirling them around his fingertips, then letting go and watching them unravel. He could feel Seungcheol’s gaze burning into the back of his head where he sat, hunched over, now picking at the rubber of his sole. “It’s getting dark,” he said quietly. “Come inside. Seokmin will prepare some food.”

 

“Not hungry,” Joshua murmured, the blunt aching in his gut nagging him that that was not in fact true. He focused intently on his shoes. They were disgusting, and his feet smelled each time he took them off. Maybe he would look for some different shoes the next time they went on a run. He got blisters far too easily with this pair. He couldn’t be a burden if they had to move. Not anymore. 

 

“Joshua,” Seungcheol said, his voice acidic. He finally looked up, eyes already burning before he could make out the leader’s features. “It wasn’t a request. C’mon.” He reached out a hand to him, and Joshua selfishly considered ignoring it, allowing himself to wallow completely in self-hatred throughout the night. Instead, he shook the bitter, resentful thoughts from his brain and took Seungcheol’s hand. Neither of them spoke as Seungcheol walked Joshua across the prison yard. The sun was rapidly setting behind the horizon, the vibrant gold and orange hues already disappearing, an onyx sky taking over. Joshua hated how fleeting sunrises and sunsets were. They were undeniably the most stunning part of the day, the small bits of beauty left in the world. But they were so curt that he could hardly savor them before they were gone. 

 

The cell block was as dark as it always was, the only light emitting from candles and a few scarce lanterns placed down the hallway. Chan was perched in the lobby, sitting on top of a table with his legs crossed, cards in hand. Seokmin and Wonwoo sat across from him, eyes on their own hand of cards. “Have any threes?” Chan asked. 

 

Seungcheol brushed past him and sat at another table on his own, a few feet away from the others. Too fearful of facing the leader, Joshua went to join the others, trying to ignore the nagging in his gut that lingered as he couldn’t see Jeonghan anywhere. 

 

“He’s fine,” Wonwoo supplied without even looking up from his cards. Joshua flinched. Had he been that obvious? “Shaken up, but he’s okay. He said he wanted to be alone. Want to play with us?” He wasn’t sure how Wonwoo and the others could brush off what had happened so easily, but he didn’t comment on it. He knew just how stubborn Jeonghan could be, and he wouldn’t put it past him to not let anyone know that he was scared, that he needed someone. 

 

“No, thanks,” he said, backing away from the table. His hand lingered on his holstered knife. He spared a glance at Seungcheol who was looking at him from the corner of his eye dangerously. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

 

“Goodnight, hyung,” Chan chimed with an uneasy smile, turning his head to meet Joshua’s gaze. He smiled in return. “Night, kiddo.” 

 

As he turned back into the cell-block hall, he contemplated seeking comfort in his guard tower, but decided against it. He’d stay in his cell tonight. In case Jeonghan needed him. Joshua sat in his cell, examining his knife in his hands. The silence in the cell block was suffocating, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, even if he tried, especially after how the day unfolded. He ran the edge of the blade of his fingertips, just lightly to feel the sharpness without breaking skin. He wiped all remnants of blood and gore off with the edge of his shirt, turning the blade over in his hands and watching as the dim light of the candles danced off the metal. He wasn’t allowed much more time with his thoughts before he heard footsteps. By the time he looked up, Jeonghan was leaning in the doorway, his hair loose from its ponytail and resting just past his shoulders. He looked exhausted, and Joshua’s chest ached. They regarded each other silently for a moment, Jeonghan’s eyes tired and sad, before he finally gathered the courage to speak. It was hard, as he felt his eyes would water all over again, sobs developing in his throat as he looked up at the elder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

Jeonghan’s expression softened, and he stepped inside, taking a seat on the cot beside Joshua. His hands reached over, fingers resting tentatively on top of his hand with the knife in it. “It wasn’t your fault,” he began, but Joshua cut him off before he could even take a breath. 

  
“It was,” he said, shaking his head miserably. He couldn’t look Jeonghan in the eye anymore. The tears were building and a familiar pressure overtook his chest. He couldn’t breathe, focusing all of his energy on keeping his cries subdued, trapped inside never to see the dim candle-lit cell. “It was my fault. You could’ve been-”

 

The fingers on his hand shifted, and Jeonghan took the knife from his hands, replacing it with his own palm, lacing their fingers together. The warmth from his skin was enough to drag back Joshua back to reality. He squeezed his palm. “No,” Jeonghan said, his voice firm yet delicate. He leaned in close, and Joshua felt heat pooling in his cheeks before he could react. Jeonghan pressed his lips to the side of his face, just beneath the crest of his cheek were a tear had escaped- one that Joshua didn’t even notice. Jeonghan rested his forehead against Joshua’s temple, now holding both hands in his own. All Joshua felt was his  _ warmth-  _ the comfort of his hands, the soft breaths that brushed against his cheek. “It was a stupid accident. I refuse to let you believe otherwise. And I’m okay. No scratches. It just scared me a little.” 

 

They sat there for a moment, pressed up against each other with their hands tangled. Joshua didn’t want to move or speak. He feared if he opened his mouth he’d crumble apart. He almost  _ lost  _ one of the only sources of love and beauty he had left in the world. He almost lost  _ everything _ , because he made a mistake. He wasn’t sure how, but he did, and it almost took Jeonghan’s life. But he felt safe here. Ironic, he supposed, considering the cell block was the one place that terrified him more than anything. He was safe, though, in Jeonghan’s arms, with his palm flat against his own and his eyelashes tickling his skin. He missed moments like this. He savored it. 

 

“Will you do me a favor, baby?” 

 

Joshua sat upright, for the first time meeting Jeonghan’s eyes. They were hooded but no longer clouded with sadness. He felt some of the crippling weight lift from his chest. “Yeah, anything,” he said. 

 

“Cut my hair.” 

 

The request gave him pause. Jeonghan loved his hair, and frankly he did as well. It was long, soft, and beautiful. For a moment, he couldn’t fathom why the latter would want to cut it off, and why he would want Joshua of all people to do it. “I realize my hair is a hazard. Anyone can grab it. I’d like you to cut it for me,” he continued before Joshua could interject. 

 

“I’m...not much of a hair stylist,” he stammered out, eyes blown wide as Jeonghan handed him the knife he had been examining before. “You sure you want me to do this?”

 

Jeonghan offered him a gentle smile that somehow, as it always did, settled all of Joshua’s worries. Wordlessly, he turned so his back faced Joshua, and he brushed his hair behind his shoulders, the long brown locks resting against his back. He stared at it for a moment, brushing through the strands with his fingertips. He would miss it. He loved when Jeonghan asked him to work out the tangles with a brush after several days on the road. It was therapeutic for the both of them, but the tie would be severed. Joshua knew it was no time to be sentimental, for his safety overrode the importance of everything else. But that didn’t make it any easier. 

  
He grasped a small chunk of hair in his left hand, raising the knife against it with the left and pulling it across. The thick lock cut with difficulty and fell onto the cot. Joshua swallowed his nerves. If Jeonghan trusted him with this… he couldn’t afford to mess it up. “How short do you wanna go?”

 

“Hm, I’ll let you decide,” Jeonghan said, and Joshua could hear the devilish chime in his voice. Even after all that they’ve been through, he still found ways to tease him. It made his heart swell. “You’re the one that likes to play with it.”

  
Joshua hummed, cutting off another chunk. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be cutting it off at all. But I understand why you want to. I just...wish I could protect you.” Another chunk. He was mindless cutting now, creating a relatively even line against the back of his neck, several inches of hair now severed. “Protect you enough so you don’t have to do this.”

 

Jeonghan turned, surprising Joshua. He pulled back, afraid he’d cut Jeonghan across the back of the neck if he moved again. “You don’t have to protect me,” he said sternly, staring Joshua down. He leaned in close, kissing the corner of his mouth with a soft hum. “That’s my job. Okay?”

 

Feeling dizzy, Joshua nodded. Jeonghan turned back around so he could continue cutting his hair. Countless thick locks rested in Joshua’s lap and on the cot. It would be a nightmare to clean up, he noted, but continued nonetheless. When he finally cut enough to reveal the back of Jeonghan’s neck, he leaned in and peppered small kisses to the delicate skin of his nape. Jeonghan chuckled and squirmed with shivers, and with each cut, Joshua left a new kiss on his neck and behind his ear. He cut until Jeonghan’s hair rested just at the base of his head, cropped just at his ears. Still long enough for him to run his fingers through and twist into mediocre braids, but not long enough for it to be a danger anymore. “How’s that feel?” 

 

“Good,” Jeonghan said as he ran through his fingers through the short ends of his hair, ruffling it and parting it to the side. “It feels weird, if I’m being honest. All that weight is gone now.”

 

Joshua bit back a smile as he watched the elder play with his hair. It certainly wasn’t what Joshua was used to, and he would mourn his long hair, but Jeonghan looked older and more mature, and the way his hair now seemed to flow and frame his bright face sent an army of butterflies fluttering throughout his stomach. He prayed that his blush was hidden in the dim lighting. But God could be cruel. Jeonghan turned, and a mischievous glint overtook his eyes. He swatted at the hair in Joshua’s lap and on the cot, swiping it to the floor as he shifted on the bed towards Joshua. One hand perched on his thigh while the other pressed on Joshua’s shoulder, forcing him down against the cot flat on his back. Jeonghan crawled on top of him, hands against his chest as he leaned down and kissed him deeply on the lips. Feverishly, Joshua reached up and rested his hands on Jeonghan’s hips, pulling him in closer. 

 

“They’ll hear,” he whispered against Jeonghan’s lips, his breath already coming in heaving pants. Despite his protest, he was already pushing the hem of Jeonghan’s shirt up his back. “We couldn’t-”

 

Jeonghan nipped at his bottom lip, hushing him. “We can be quiet.” He reached down and slipped his hand beneath Joshua’s shirt, trailing his fingertips across his abdomen and up to his chest before circling back down to the waistband of his jeans. “Let me take care of you, baby.” 


End file.
